The Leviathan

Chapter Thirteen

Maeve's hand rested on the doorknob for some time. She wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with this, whether she'd forgive herself when she found out she was wrong, and her suspicions had been all for naught.

But she knew she would never forgive herself if she didn't go through with it. The door clicked open, swinging open without much resistance. The room was faintly illuminated by the moonlight that came threw the windows. Myra had been historically an organized person, and that showed from how Maeve couldn't spot a single item that seemed out of place. Shelves were stacked to their limits with books arranged by alphabetical order. Her desk had a single notebook on it, along with a pen by its side.

Maeve walked around the room for a little, feeling quite lost in the myriad of knowledge just sitting around. Would Myra even keep her notes on the investigation here? What was she even looking for, anyway? A big, flashing sign that screamed, 'I'm going to kill the King'? Maeve crept over to the bookshelves, careful not to accidentally push anything out of place. Books on the war, non-fictional research articles on the human body...? Maeve kept looking, scanning up and down for anything that might've been of interest. A book covering the anatomy of elder vampires. Another looking into how vampire energy worked. There was even a couple of books titled, 'How do you dream? Part I'.

Nothing. Just a whole bunch of nothing. Maeve walked over to the desk, sitting back in the chair. She could almost picture those times she'd burst through the door, as Myra sat at her desk, sipping away at her cup of tea, working on the same piece of work for eight consecutive hours. She'd dance all around the desk, until Myra eventually let up, taking a break as the two went for a walk.

Maeve sighed, leaning back in the chair as the backrest went way further back then she'd expected, as her feet flew up, knocking the bottom of the table. Just as she rushed to rearrange the things on the table, a small lever clicked, as the usually locked drawer swung open, with a single black book sitting inside. The cover was blank, and it was far thinner then the plethora of other books Myra owned.

Maeve took it out, looking it over for a second. Perhaps it was just another diary. Myra journaled regularly, some entries she'd even shown to Maeve in the past. But this book was unfamiliar. It had a certain scent to it, the cover made from expensive leather. Maeve thumbed it open.

'To my beloved daughter, Myra.'

Myra never talked about her past. Maeve flipped it open, as she scanned the contents. It was a notebook, with Myra's own notes scrawled into it. One of the first few entries had a drawing of a bracelet, right down to its details. It looked non-expensive in nature, exempt for the jewel engraved into its centre. Maeve couldn't tell what it was from the black-and white shades, but it could've been anything.

Below it, Myra had written the following words which made the hairs on her hands stand.

'Regis's bracelet. I believe this is the source of his power, at least part of it. After repeated testing, the trinket fails to activate despite multiple attempts. I will have to find another way.'

There were at least a dozen few entries detailing her experiments on the bracelet. Maeve had only ever once seen it from afar, when she'd spotted Regis entering the castle. How Myra had gotten her hands on it, she had no idea. She continued thumbing through the pages.

'After looking into it further, I've discovered a series of ancient texts that reported the events of the first vampire war, one which Verda rose to power. In most cases, people referred to Verda as the 'Chaos Empress', or the 'Dreaming Queen', but in rarer instances, the term 'Vampire Monarch' was used to address her. The term 'Monarch' has been used continually, and strangely enough, it is only used to address direct descendants of Verda herself. This includes Regis, the current half-blood on the throne.'